A Frenchman has charge, and upon his vision there suddenly bursts a
dusty figure, with hair destitute of covering, and clothing awry, a
figure that has leaped from a horse bathed in sweat; a figure he
imagines has broken loose from some mad-house, yet which upon addressing
him shows a wonderful amount of coolness.

"Are you the agent of the stage line?" is the first question fired at
him.

"I am Monsieur Constans. I have ze charge of ze elegant equipage line
zat you speak of as one stage," returns the Frenchman.

"You remember my passing through here a little while ago, bound for
Algiers?"

"_Parbleu!_ zat is so. I am astonish. What for are you back on ze
horseback, too. _Mon Dieu!_ have ze robbers been at it again? Ten souzan
fury, and ze _cadi_ promise zat we have no more trouble wif zem."

At the mention of the word John experiences a sudden chill, remembering
that he has left Lady Ruth and Aunt Gwen upon the loneliest part of the
road to Algiers; but becomes somewhat reassured when it also crosses his
memory that the gallant professor and the soldier hero of Zulu battles
are there to defend them.

"You are mistaken. The miserable vehicle has broken down," he says.

"_Ciel!_ is zat all?"

"All! Confound your impudence, and isn't it enough when two ladies are